


Keep You Coming Back

by Ellessey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Barbershop, Fluff, M/M, smitten suga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 12:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17244599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellessey/pseuds/Ellessey
Summary: '“Are you sure you don’t want to take off a little more?” Suga asked when the man/god, who introduced himself as Sawamura Daichi, had sat down at his station and told him what he wanted, which wasn’t much.“Should I?” Daichi asked, meeting Suga’s eyes in the mirror in front of them. His hair was thick and messy and lovely, but with his current style, even after a good trim, he wouldn’t need to come in again for another five to six weeks. And that was far too long.--A gorgeous doctor comes into Suga's barbershop, and Suga is bound and determined to make sure he comes in again and again.





	Keep You Coming Back

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday to the one and only Sawamura Daichi, my most favorite boy in all the world <333

Suga was facing something of a moral quandary. Or, really, he’d faced it a number of months ago, made a questionable decision, and then continued to silently agonize over it without actually doing anything to reverse it.

Here was the thing, though. Sawamura Daichi was really fucking hot. The first time he came in for a haircut Suga legitimately wolf whistled, and then abruptly choked when Kei chopped him right in the throat.

“Get ahold of yourself, you’re the goddamn manager,” he’d said, and Suga had just elbowed him back distractedly. Only Kei had heard him anyway, and an _actual god_ had just entered their tiny, trendy barber shop.

“I want to make love to his shoulders,” Suga said, both because it was true, and because Kei abhorred stupidity and lewdness, and Suga was an expert at marrying the two to produce a perfect expression of embarrassed distaste on Kei’s face.

“You’re disgusting. I’m taking my lunch.”

Suga was fine with that. The downpour outside had made it a slow morning, and with Kei on his way out that left Suga alone with the newcomer. The strong-jawed, obscenely attractive newcomer, with dark hair wet and tousled, and thin cotton pressed tantalizing to the broad planes of his chest. Suga was entirely justified in wolf whistling, he wasn’t questioning that whatsoever. It was only what came next that he felt slightly (sometimes extremely) guilty for.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take off a little more?” he asked when the man/god, who introduced himself as Sawamura Daichi, had sat down at Suga’s station and told him what he wanted, which wasn’t much.

“Should I?” Daichi asked, meeting Suga’s eyes in the mirror in front of them. His hair was thick and messy and lovely, but with his current style, even after a good trim, he wouldn’t need to come in again for another five to six weeks. And that was far too long.

Suga paused, brushing Daichi’s hair to the side so it wasn’t covering his forehead. He actually had a truly exceptional forehead, so Suga didn’t feel too badly at the time for steering him in a new direction. “Hmm,” he said. “You have good, strong lines. A nice, clean side part, with a fade on the back and sides would look great on you.”

“Would that be hard to style?” Daichi asked, his lips tilting into something painfully endearing and sheepish. “I’m not, like, great at doing my hair? I mean that’s pretty obvious, I guess. It’s extra bad now because I haven’t had a chance to deal with it, but I always just kind of... leave it.”

Suga smiled while his heart swelled. He should have told Daichi it didn’t matter. That he could continue on with his mop of unstyled hair and it would be fine, it would be _great,_ because he was so fucking gorgeous. But, as has already been established, Suga did not travel the moral high road. He _couldn't_ , now that he knew what it felt like to have his fingers in this hair.

“It would take some effort, yes. I could give you something easier to maintain, though. A nice modern crew cut would require more frequent cuts, but take next to no effort in between.”

“That doesn’t sound bad. And I wouldn’t look so much like a schlubby college student then? That’s what my mom says I look like.”

“You don’t,” Suga had assured him with a laugh. In truth, he looked like an adorable, slightly helpless college student, although he had to have been about the same age as Suga, twenty-eight or so. “But you would look respectably refined. Your mother would be pleased.”

“And you?” Daichi asked, which was the nail in the coffin. Just flirty enough that Suga, at least at that moment, had no qualms about signing his new, maintenance-averse client up for bi-weekly hair appointments.

“I think you’d look... very handsome,” he said honestly. (He _was_ honest a lot of the time, really.)

“Huh,” Daichi said, looking both flustered and pleased. “I guess I can’t say no then.”

He could, and Suga could have reminded him of that, but he’d just smiled instead and gotten to work. When he was finished, the floor was scattered with dark waves, and Daichi had become nothing but perfectly styled hair and devastating lines and angles. If Kei had still been there, Suga would have amended his earlier statement. It was actually Daichi’s cheekbones he wanted to make love to.

“Woah,” Daichi said, taking in the final results after Suga had brushed the last bits of hair off his shoulders. (Which okay, yes, he was still lusting after quite desperately.) “That’s…”  
  
It was so, so much shorter than it had been before. Perfect, but short. “If you hate it, I promise I can help you grow it out nicely! It’s just—”

“No, no,” Daichi cut in. “It’s just really different, but it looks... wow. I won’t feel so out of place anymore, at work.”

“Where do you work?” Suga asked. They’d never made it past an enthusiastic discussion about volleyball while he was cutting Daichi’s hair, after realizing they both played as teenagers.

“Oh, just a few blocks uptown, at the hospital,” Daichi said, as if he was surprised he hadn’t already mentioned it. As if Suga already knew that this fucking gift in front of him was also a dedicated, selfless saver of actual lives. “I’m doing my residency in pediatric surgery.”

Suga died several times in a small span of time. It took a mighty effort to school his expression into something that wouldn’t alert Daichi to the gymnastic feats his heart was performing.

“Ah,” he said at great length. “Well, yes. You’ll look very professional and... doctorly now.”

“Thank you, Sugawara-san.”

“Suga,” he’d corrected faintly.

“Suga-san.”

So there it was. Daichi, with his busy surgical resident’s schedule, was now going to have to fit a haircut in every two weeks to keep up his new style, and Suga could barely make himself feel badly about that, which in turn made him feel terrible. And that had been nearly three months ago.

Three months of Daichi coming in a few days later than he should have, hair getting a touch unruly, and smiling crookedly at Suga as he sat down at his station. Three months of talking and teasing over the soft swish of scissors and the hum of clippers. Of Daichi’s cheeks going pink, and his laughter bursting out, deep and warm.

Three months of Suga cursing the fact that it would be unforgivably unprofessional to ask out a client. And the fact that his only option was to keep Daichi maintaining this hairstyle for the rest of his life, so he could at least see him every fourteen days or so.

He almost cracked, on Daichi’s fourth visit, when he’d come to the barber shop straight from the hospital, still dressed in scrubs.

“Sorry!” he’d said, seemingly unaware that the v-neck of his deep blue top was doing _very_ intense things to Suga. “If I’d changed I wouldn’t have made it in time.”

“Busy day?” Suga asked, waving away the highly unnecessary apology. He should have been apologizing for not _always_ letting Suga see him like this, with the dark lines of a mysterious tattoo peeking out from the left side of his collar.

“Always,” Daichi grinned. “A good one, though. You remember Aya-chan?”

Suga did. As much as he enjoyed Daichi’s handsome face, and the strong set of his shoulders as Suga stood behind him, he’d also come to adore Daichi’s stories. The earnestness of his concern for his young patients, his joy when they were doing well. Suga remembered everything Daichi had said about little Aya-chan the last time they’d talked, but he hadn’t known when her operation was scheduled.

“Of course! It went well then? She’s okay?”

“She’s great! She did _so_ well,” Daichi said, eyes shining.

Suga had grinned back at him, bursting with pride. “So did you!” he said, and Daichi, always humble, had shaken his head. Even though Suga knew enough now to be aware that Daichi getting to play a lead role in a major surgery was a big deal.

“We had a really good team, I was lucky to be there.”

“Of course,” Suga agreed.

“They all said the attending would never have let me do so much if I still looked like a homeless surfer.”

Suga snorted unbecomingly at that, and his perpetual simmer of guilt was slightly assuaged by the reminder that he’d actually been of help to Daichi. He _had_ made the right call encouraging him to try a new style, he knew that. Daichi looked fantastic, and the first time he came back he’d told Suga about all the compliments he’d received from his coworkers, about his mother’s relief, and his own surprise at how quick it was to wash and style.

Suga made the right choice, he just didn’t make it for the right reasons, and he couldn’t stop feeling like Daichi should know that.  

“Of course not, you imbecile,” Kei said a week or so ago, when Suga mentioned it while they were sweeping the floor at the end of the day. “That was grossly unprofessional. You’ll give us a bad name.”

“Maybe,” Suga said. “But—”

“Wanting to sleep with him, or his shoulders or whatever, is _not_ an excuse.”

“I think I actually want to marry him?” Suga said, and Kei gave him such a satisfyingly withering look that Suga felt it was worth exposing his desperate heart.

“Stop,” Kei said.

“No, but really though.”

Kei ignored him completely while he finished emptying out his dustpan, but eventually he sighed and faced Suga again.

“It’s your ass if this blows up, but just get it over with then. He’s obviously into you anyway.”

“Is he?”

Kei rewarded him with an exceptionally dramatic eye-roll. “Please. How the hell does he even make time to get come here so often? You know he only does that for you. He clearly had no interest in not looking tragically unkempt before meeting you.”

Suga had become so overridden with fondness at the memory of Daichi and his disheveled hair that Kei walked away from him with a disdainful mutter, but he’d given his approval all the same. Suga didn’t actually need it, of course, but he did need some kind of kick in the ass to do the right thing. To tell Daichi the truth and let the chips fall where they may.

(He really wasn’t great at doing that, as he much preferred to have things in his control. Hence literally forcing Daichi into having to see him every two weeks which was _horrible_ oh God he had to make this right.)

Daichi was right on time for his eighth visit, stepping in out of a sunny afternoon this time, cheeks flushed, and slightly out of breath.

“Hey!” he greeted Suga, smiling warmly. Suga smiled dumbly back at him and his beautiful face and the tattoo hidden under his grey t-shirt that goddammit Suga was going to investigate someday. “You changed your hair again, huh?”

“Ah, yeah,” Suga said, his eyes flicking over to catch his own reflection. He changed his hair frequently as he and his team experimented with new techniques, but he quite liked it like this—close cropped on the sides, and styled with the same deep side-part he’d suggested to Daichi that first time. “What do you think?”

Daichi blushed immediately, before he’d even opened his mouth to respond. How _dare_ he be so adorably transparent?

“It’s, uh,” he began, standing hesitantly next to the chair instead of taking a seat.

“That bad?”

“No, no no no, it’s—”

“Relax,” Suga grinned, and Daichi shook his head as he smiled back at him with his cheeks aflame.

“Why do you have to do that to me?”

“Hm? Do what?” Suga asked blithely, pressing a hand to Daichi’s shoulder. “Sit.”

Daichi allowed himself to be guided into the chair “It looks... really good,” he said finally, ignoring Suga's question since of course he knew why Suga teased him, and Suga knew why he teased him. (But Daichi needed to know just _how much_ Suga loved doing it.) “You’re, um…”

“I’m what?” Suga asked, sweeping a black barber’s cape in front of Daichi to settle it over his shoulders.

Daichi swallowed. Suga could feel it against his hand as he smoothed the cape along Daichi’s neckline.

“You’re very handsome,” he said, dark eyes steady on Suga’s in the mirror. Suga swallowed, too. This was it, this was it, this was it. He just had to—

“Sorry,” Daichi backtracked suddenly, eyes widening. “Sorry, that was—”

“No!” Suga said. “You’re fine! I’m—”

“No, God, I’m really sorry. I know it’s like, not okay to flirt with your barber.”

Suga was already so embarrassingly gone for this man the first moment he walked into the shop, but somehow he managed to fall just a little more at that moment, with Daichi looking so sweet and regretful. Just a little bit fearfully hopeful too, because he’d put something out there that both of them had been dancing around for weeks.

“It’s... equally not okay to encourage your client to get a high maintenance cut so you’ll be able to see him as much as possible,” he admitted. “But, here we are.”

Daichi processed that quite slowly, which was nice. He may be on his way to becoming a world-class surgeon, but he was also just a very sweet man who thought Suga was handsome, and was figuring out that Suga was definitely okay with that. And also that Suga was terrible.

“Wait, you... does this style not actually suit me, then?”

“No! It does!” Suga rushed to assure him, though this hardly seemed like the biggest concern for Daichi to settle on. “This cut is _made_ for you. But you clearly didn’t really have time for frequent hair appointments, and I shouldn’t have— _oh.”_ Suga lost his train of thought as Daichi got to his feet, coming around the chair so he was face to face with Suga.

“So you gave me a great haircut, and you did it because you wanted me to come back.”

“To come back a _lot,”_ Suga specified. It was a good thing he ran this place, because otherwise he would be good and fired. Probably not sued, though, because Daichi was mercifully not looking like he felt objectified and manipulated.

“Let’s go outside,” he said, which perhaps would have been menacing if he _had_ looked angry, but he only looked attractively determined just then, as he tugged the cape back off and left it on the chair.

Suga tossed a loaded look at Kei that meant he was to mind the shop and not under any circumstances interrupt Suga and Daichi, and Kei flipped him off with his hand held low behind the chair of his own client.

Outside the shop it was bright and hot, and Suga nearly ignited when Daichi took his hand.

“If we’re out here, you’re not my barber, and I’m not your client, right?”

That probably was not actually how it worked, but Suga nodded anyway. It wasn’t like he habitually hit on his clients. It was just Daichi.

“So it’s okay if I tell you I would have moved mountains to make it to these appointments, no matter how busy I was.”

Suga was sweating rather profusely under the mid afternoon sun and Daichi’s beautiful intensity, but he was fortuitously wearing a sleeveless shirt under his black apron, and would at least remain free from pit stains, if nothing else. “It’s... more than okay,” he said.

“And it’s also okay if I ask you for breakfast on Saturday, because I work nights for the next month and I can’t wait that long to ask you for dinner?”

It took Suga some effort, and a little more sweating, to work past the images that immediately popped into his head, of breakfasts with Daichi that weren’t first-date breakfasts, but instead lazy, half-dressed, home-cooked breakfasts. With the way Daichi was looking at him, he suspected those would not stay in the realm of imagination for too long.

“Yes,” he said, nodding to make his agreement doubly clear. “I’d really like that.”

“Good.”

“You haven’t let me apologize yet though, for being creepy.”

“Suga-san... I only went into your shop because I saw you through the window and needed to meet you. Otherwise I would have just gone home and slept and never cut my hair at all.”

Well, that was a delightful development. One that was setting Suga’s cheeks flaming even though he was a grown ass man. “You mean you hadn’t even been planning to get a cut?”

“Nope,” Daichi affirmed. “I don’t really give a shit about my hair, to tell you the truth.”

“I sensed that,” Suga nodded. “It’s _great_ hair, though.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I have you to take care of it.”

Oh God, Daichi had no idea how well Suga was going to take care of him. Though he may have had an inkling, if the way he blushed when Suga smiled somewhat wolfishly in reply was any indication.

“Hey,” Suga said, stopping Daichi before they went back inside so Suga could temporarily be his barber, in addition to being the man who would be having breakfast with him on Saturday. “Question. What’s the tattoo on your chest?”

Daichi raised an eyebrow at him, even though he had to know it was visible in his scrubs, and definitely had to have felt Suga’s eyes on him when he was wearing them. “What tattoo?” he asked.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Suga said, inwardly delighting in the confirmation that his sweet, handsome doctor was also a little shit. “Going to make me wait for it?”

“Well I can’t use haircuts as an excuse to keep you coming back, unlike _some_ people, so…”

Suga tripped Daichi, who just laughed heartily after catching himself on Suga’s shoulder, squeezing it before they stepped into the shop together.

Kei pretended not to notice them, or the way Suga took way too long to cut Daichi’s hair, or the number of smiles they exchanged in the mirror. (He totally noticed, though. Suga could see his mounting disgust in every irritated adjustment of his glasses. It was like a gift on top of a gift.)

All in all it was not the peak of professionalism for Suga, but he really couldn’t find it in himself to care. For all of the questionable decisions he’d made before, this—Daichi—was not one of them. He had no doubt this was a good one.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm [ellessey-writes](http://ellessey-writes.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, [ellessey_](https://twitter.com/ellessey_) on Twitter, and you can find the rest of my AO3 DaiSuga works [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=836528&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=0&user_id=Ellessey).


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